


adult pizza

by PikaCheeka



Category: DRAMAtical Murder (Visual Novel), DRAMAtical Murder - All Media Types
Genre: Alcohol, Clothed Sex, M/M, Mario Kart, intimidation tactics, shameless vitri fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-26
Updated: 2016-04-26
Packaged: 2018-06-04 14:21:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6662332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PikaCheeka/pseuds/PikaCheeka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Noiz is fresh off the plane from Germany, and in his desperation to get to Midorijima he makes one long series of bad choices, the first of which involves asking none other than Yakuza members Trip & Virus for help. </p><p>He isn't thinking about what they might want in return.<br/>--<br/>They break away from one another with an audible wet sound that causes Noiz to cringe. The thought of tongues mingling, of someone touching the one part of him that can feel, of having true contact with another human for the first time in his life, fills him with a visceral horror he has never felt before. But cringing was the wrong thing to do, because now they are interested. “Care to join?” Virus grins lazily.</p>
            </blockquote>





	adult pizza

**Author's Note:**

> This IS a standalone, though it more or less picks up immediately after “the coming forth by day of {he wants a tomb}” if you happened to read that one. Essentially, Noiz is fresh off the plane from Germany. Because Midorijima has strict travel regulations, he had to fly into Osaka first, where he ran into some issues with security. That’s where this opens. That said, Noiz is fifteen here, so there are quite a few sexual references made/done in the presence of an underage kid.
> 
> This is also technically the first ViTri fic I started, though I put it on hold to write and post others. They are a disaster and I love them. Thanks to catfeet, known, and king in particular for some ideas for the video game part in this fic!

 

“Please remain where you are, sir.” The _sir_ is what does it for him. No longer a kid for them to help as he had been a moment ago, but a _sir_ for them to call the police on, and Noiz is turning to look behind him, find the exits, determine who he needs to fight to escape.

At that moment someone grabs him, a heavy hand on his shoulder that jerks him out of his seat and shoves him to the side. “We’d been looking all over for you!” More than one voice, but he can’t distinguish between them. Two people talking at once is unnerving; it isn’t something he’s used to after nine years in a still and silent room.

A second man steps forward, bows deeply to the clerk at the desk just as Noiz is dragged from his seat. “He’s with us. Yes, thank you. No, I’m sorry he did that. Yes, we are his guardians. I’m sorry.” A steady stream of apologies and gratitudes spill from his mouth.

Everything happens so quickly that Noiz feels paralyzed, especially after the ordeal of the plane ride. He can’t make out their faces as well as he’d like, but he has seen enough to know that these aren’t security guards or police. Blonde hair and eyes a shrill and hideous blue that he would have believed were contacts were the shorter one not wearing glasses. _Probably one of those hipsters who doesn’t actually need them_ , he suspects. They aren’t even Japanese. Part, at best, so he isn’t the only European here, at least. _We are his guardians._ It’s almost too convenient, he thinks just as the one gripping his shoulder shoves him bodily towards the door.

“We’ll be outside.”

For the first time in his life Noiz is too confused to even hit whatever blur of a face happens to be nearest to him, and he allows himself to be pushed out into the sunlight.

After he’d gotten off the plane in Osaka and run from the security guards, he’d fainted at this travel agency, which had been humiliating enough. He supposed that at the very least, they’d be pleasant when he told them he needed to get to Midorijima upon waking up. After all, he was just a kid, a foreigner at that, who had blacked out from the shock of travel; shouldn’t they be happy to help him get to where he needed? But no luck. _No stamp_ , was what they had kept saying, employees apologizing and bowing profusely while refusing him. _What stamp?_ They couldn’t seem to tell him, couldn’t look him in the eye when they said they didn’t know, as if his very lack of knowledge on the subject was enough reason to keep him from getting to the island.

And then things had gotten even worse, because the clerk holding his passport had suddenly realized the alert on his name that popped up on the computer screen, which had led to her dropping the niceties, calling him sir, reaching for the phone to summon the police, when these men had shown up.

As the two of them stand outside, Noiz and his mysterious savior, disinterested and snapping bubble gum in his teeth, they are silent. Noiz is uncertain of if he should speak or run, feeling as if he’s forgetting something.

It hits him in the same moment the smaller man walks calmly out of the airport and pulls something from his pocket. _His passport_. He must have retrieved it from the travel agency when apologizing. Noiz lunges forward and grabs it from him, fully prepared for a fight. But there is none.

“Well that was an ordeal. What did you do, exactly, for a security alert like that?” the man only rocks back on his heels as he speaks, hands folded neatly behind his back now.

“I might have punched a security guard…” he trails off. He knows he should be grateful, but he’s tired of older people telling him what to do, dictating where he can and can’t go, as if he hadn’t had enough of being trapped in one location on an adult’s whim. _These two though…_ The moment he really looks at them, his anger wavers. He can’t tell how old these two are, older than him for certain, but perhaps not by much, and they can’t possibly be any authority figure dressed the way they are – hair gelled up, tacky boots, jewelry with spikes, matching scarves, tight black pants and asymmetrical shirts and is one of wearing _a skirt_? “Or two. I don’t know.”

At this, the one in the skirt – if it is one – laughs, a soft _heh_ that somehow rattles Noiz, but otherwise he remains silent.

“And you hung around the airport why, exactly?” The other speaks again, and this time Noiz can place his face to the voice.

“They won’t give me the papers I need to get out of here.” He is fully prepared to talk more, to explain everything, but their next question catches him off guard.

“What’s your name?”

 _My name_. “Noiz.” It’s still new and the taste of it is peculiar on his tongue, but it comes to him more easily than the empty space he once carried.

“Interesting, interesting.” One echoes the other and Noiz can’t catch which one said which.

The smaller of the two suddenly grins. “It seems we all have English names. I’m Virus, and he’s…” He nods at the taller man.

“Trip.” He has a softer voice than Noiz expects but at least he isn’t named after Malware.

“How old are you?” Virus.

Noiz doesn’t see why this is relevant to the topic at hand. “You saw my passport.”

“Ah yes. _Your_ passport.” He keeps smiling. Noiz has seen a lot of smiles in the last several days, far more than he ever wanted to see, but the perfection in this one bothers him more than the rest. Too white, too neat, too clear, too sharp in his blurred vision. It remains behind his eyelids when he closes his eyes.

“Fifteen,” he finally replies flatly.

He sees the glance exchanged between the two men, but doesn’t know how to interpret it. He’s seen a lot of emotions and a lot of looks on a lot of faces in the last several days, and hasn’t the faintest idea what most of them might mean.

“And you’re alone?”

“Yes. Have been a while.” He has never met someone like this Virus face to face, has never had to work out his intonations and expressions and closeness, but he suspects he has known people like him on the deepweb. _Don’t lie, but don’t reveal too much either._ And he doesn’t lie. He spent nine years locked up in a room without human contact.

“But not in Japan?” The other one. Trip.

He isn’t used to speaking with two people like this. _Don’t lie, but don’t reveal too much either._ “Europe.”

“Deutschland.” Virus again, hands in his pockets, eyelid-burning grin on his face unchanged.

This conversation is going nowhere fast. Germany is not a place he wants to think about, so he changes tactics. Things are already so hopeless he supposes anything is worth a try. “I need to get to Midorijima.”

Something shifts in their faces, a change that Noiz isn’t expecting as one of them, a voice he can’t pinpoint, speaks, “Why?”

“I want to start a Rhyme team. That’s where the action is.”

“You traveled all the way from Germany to go to Midorijima for Rhyme then, hm? That’s quite far to come if you don’t even have proper paperwork.” Virus seems to be thinking this over, hand raised to cover his mouth now, but Noiz has an uncomfortable suspicion that he is not thinking very much at all, that he’s decided on something long before. He glances over at Trip, who is silent, blank, watching the two of them. No help there.

“Yea, what’s the big deal. I can buy my way in.” He can hear Trip snort, as if holding in a laugh, and it drives him on. He hates being mocked. “I know a lot about it and learned how to track Usui even from home. I can beat anyone. I’ve never lost a fight.” He doesn’t point out that he hasn’t fought in nine years, and hasn’t fought in Rhyme at all. There’s that creeping sensation that he feels in the center of his tongue again, that these two know far more than they are letting on, and it unnerves him. But he is desperate and he supposed today can’t get much worse, even with a few bad decisions.

“How about we help you?” Virus finally speaks, smiling that shit-eating grin again, as if he thought long and hard to come up with the answer he had the moment he laid eyes on Noiz.

“You gotta start a team though.” Trip.

“What’s your stake in it?” he snaps before he can stop himself.

“We _liiike_ watching Rhyme. Bet _on_ the good players, you know. Good money.” He draws out certain words and emphasizes others in a way Noiz has never heard, but the irreverent way that Trip mentions breaking the law strangely relaxes him. The other man’s grin still sears the underside of his eyelids, but suddenly, they are people he can _tolerate_.

“I’ll start my own. Even give you a cut of what I earn in battles for a while, if you just get me there.”

Another glance exchanged between the two before Trip nods. “Come with us.”

“We live in Midorijima, but we visit Osaka for business often enough to need an apartment nearby. We have paperwork for guests to Midorijima there,” Virus cuts in, as if an explanation is needed, and Noiz suddenly realizes that he doesn’t have it as together as he initially appeared, because _he, Noiz, is an unknown quantity._

It’s his turn to smile as he takes a step towards them.

-

“Passport you’re using.” Not _your passport_. They know, not that it matters, Noiz supposes, seeing as what they’re doing for him can’t be legal either. He shrugs and hands it over.

Virus takes it from him and without even looking at either him or the booklet, scans it through the computer and begins typing with one hand. “I’m recoding your travel permissions. This will ensure access even if something happens to the paperwork. Don’t know why they bother with that anymore.”

 _Definitely not legal._ Noiz smiles, feels his tongue curl at the thought, and sinks back in the chair. It’s well after dark and he is exhausted, not that he will admit it to anyone. The apartment was further away than he’d anticipated, a meandering walk through the streets that he suspects could have been significantly shorter, complete with a lengthy stop at a café and several bars and even a Laundromat where Virus had darted in to _speak with someone_. If it all hadn’t been suspicious enough, the size and décor of an apartment they claimed wasn’t even their main home gives them away, not that Noiz cares. He has enough in his own bag to wind up in prison for a lifetime or two.

Trip’s hunched over on third chair, staring at his Coil with his boots on the seat, and Noiz absently realizes that he’s using a program to ensure that nobody could see through the normally translucent screen to look at what he is doing. _Useful._ Such a problem had never occurred to him until he suddenly had to deal with other humans; there was nobody in his small room on the fourth floor to pay attention to what he pulled up. He leans over despite himself to see from Trip’s angle. A glitching screen. So a program that only permits one to see it from a certain angle. _Very useful_. He wants to ask what the name of it is, wants to download it on his own Coil, but he realizes too late that Trip is staring at him now, unblinking.

“Can’t read it, eh. I have better eyes, I guess.” He smiles, pushes the sleep button, and the screen vanishes.

But before Noiz can react, Virus speaks up. “I’ll need to scan your fingerprints.” He slides his chair over, pats a flat screen embedded in the table. There’s something unnerving about the way he touches the screen, lingering just a little too long, and suddenly Noiz is thrust into uncertainty again. “Just press your hands flat here.”

He does as he is told, ignoring the creeping feeling in his mouth that Trip is staring at his backside as he leans over the table, ignoring the way Virus is breathing a little too loudly.

When he steps back and the printer begins beeping softly, there is hardly any paperwork to speak of. A single sheet, carrying the same information as his passport, copies of his thumbprints, a duration (indefinite), and a seal, deftly stamped on by Virus with something he pulls from his pocket.

Kanji, of course. Noiz sighs. So this is what he had needed. “What’s this stamp?”

Virus shrugs, smiles that nasty white grin again as he presses a button on the table and the screens abruptly vanish. “Our boss’s seal of authority. Can’t get on the island without it.”

“Thanks.” No wonder he couldn’t find any information on this. Not like the government would admit the island was being controlled entirely by one person. A person who would hire _these_ people. He hesitates a moment. Neither of the two men had made any move to stand or show him to the door. “How much?”

“We don’t need money.”

“No money,” Trip echoes beside him. Noiz can’t help but wonder if he’s blinked since he last looked at him.

“Then what do you want?”

Virus turns his hands palm up, spreads his elbows. He says nothing but his smile is wicked and white.

Noiz sits back, bites his tongue and feels that faint twinge of something he adores so much, and thinks. He has plenty of information on all kinds of matters, but he suspects none will be of any value to these men. He has money, but they don’t want money. He has drugs and fake passports and several thumb drives filled with enough stolen identities to host a small nation in his bag and enough malware to bring it down again, but this doesn’t seem to be the time or the place to show his hand in those industries. That doesn’t leave him with much of a bargaining chip. It’s not a concept he’s particularly thrilled about, mainly because it seems so tiresome and he’s already exhausted, but there’s nothing else he can suggest. “Sex.”

And Virus’ grin narrows to a smirk as he leans forward and clasps his hands together. “I wouldn’t object to that. What do you think, Trip?”

Trip doesn’t answer immediately, only stares across the table at Noiz. “Sounds good but I think we might…hurt him.”

Noiz wants to laugh, wants to bare his own shit-eating vibrant white mouth and laugh and laugh, but he’s rapidly adjusting to this game he feels he might be familiar with and knows things wouldn’t go in his favor if he did so. So he shrugs, says nothing.

“Are you…?” Virus raises an eyebrow.

“I can’t answer such a vague question without knowing if you’re going to say prostitute or virgin.” He says it with a straight face, and silently congratulates himself.

“The latter, of course. Are you?”

There’s no point in lying. He didn’t find virginity anything particularly important, but he also never had a person to lose it with, and anyway it’s not as if he ever had had much interest in sex to begin with. He knew it was something people bargained with sometimes, and sure he’d seen some foul – and boring – videos while crawling the sewers of the internet, but that was about the extent of his knowledge on the matter. “Yes.”

Virus nods.

Trip’s looking at Noiz in a way he can’t understand again before he opens his mouth and in his soft voice murmurs, “We won’t go easy on you just because of that.”

“Age, size, experience, it doesn’t matter. We’ll take you…” he looks at Trip now. “At the same time, perhaps?”

Trip grins finally, nods.

 _Bullshit._ Noiz may be a virgin but he does have a general understanding of how things work, and he knows that the other two men are significantly larger than him, so whatever they’re referring to can’t _possibly_ work _. Maybe if one of you had a toothpick for a dick._ But he keeps it to himself. Better to not provoke them if they are going to be like this. He’ll happily take one in a fight, would even take on both in normal circumstances, but this is not a normal situation and his gut tells him that these are not normal people. He’s made a lot of bad choices in the last few hours and punching one of them would surely add to that list. “Okay.”

Virus is the first to move, ripping his tie off in one soft, fluid motion, coiling it around his fingers, pretending to examine it as if it wasn’t something he probably wore every day. “Hm. Are you afraid of the dark?”

 _This is starting to get really embarrassing._ He remembers how for days at a time he would turn off all lights, all computers, close all windows, and lie in the dark. He’d learned to navigate his room perfectly in the pitch blackness, even smashed the bulb in the refrigerator with his bare hands so he wouldn’t have to see a single thing he couldn’t feel. Darkness was a relief. Maybe he wouldn’t have to see that stupid grin anymore. “Uhm. No.”

At some unspoken gesture between the two men, Trip slides out of his seat at this point, moves towards Noiz, and out of his sight behind him.

“I always wanted to ask someone that.” He speaks as if to himself, the same way Noiz had caught himself speaking aloud time and again in his room. “Though I suppose blindfolds, handcuffs, gags, rings, beads, and nipple hooks _are_ pretty tame,” Virus continues.

He doesn’t have a clue what anything past gags means, and he somehow finds himself not caring. The intent is obvious enough and the end result of any toy they use would be the same. They want to hurt him, torture him, perhaps make him scream and beg or resist simply so they can hurt him some more. They don’t know just how difficult that would be. “I suppose so.”

“Then what do you prefer?” The softer voice is behind him now, close enough to his ear that Noiz knows he should be able to feel his breath. Too bad for Trip that he can’t. It crosses his mind that the other man might be touching him, but he isn’t applying enough force to upset his balance. He can’t know without looking.

 _Shit._ If Trip is touching him and he doesn’t react, it would be _too_ suspicious. He has to look, even if it would mean compromising the image. So he does, turns his head to peer over his shoulder and acknowledge the voice behind him, and as he does, he arches his back ever so slightly, just enough to imply he can feel a hand that may or may not be there. Not there.

When he turns back to Virus, there is a snake on the table.

No. Not a real snake, not with eyes like that, a vibrant shocking blue all too similar to Virus’ own eyes. He’s never seen one in person before and for a moment he can’t work the words. “Is that an Allmate?”

It’s probably not the response Virus is expecting, but he keeps grinning. “Yes. Though Herscha has other uses around here.”

 _I don’t believe this Fucking furries._ He’d always hoped people like this didn’t exist off the internet. “That’s nice.”

“I don’t think this is a good idea,” Trip says suddenly from behind.

“Oh?” the smaller one finally tears his eyes from Noiz to look just beyond him.

“It’s boring when he isn’t scared of anything.”

Virus cocks his head to the side. “Fair enough.” He leans back, sighs and continues to smile. As he does, Trip materializes beside him again. And just like that, it’s all over.

He finds himself at a loss for words. _Boring._ Was the whole thing a joke to begin with? He hadn’t expected to get out of it entirely, had only hoped he might manage to get through the night with his life, because he knew that even if he couldn’t feel a thing they did to him, they’d probably kill him at the end of it, intentionally or otherwise. But he’s apparently too boring for them to even bother with. He narrows his eyes for a moment, suddenly suspicious. _Can they know? Can they possibly…_

“It’s after midnight. Would you like to stay the night?” The voice startles Noiz out of his thoughts and he can only stare at Virus, hands folded politely in front of him again, as if he hadn’t been threatening to fuck him to death with a robotic snake only moments before.

He can go back to the capsule hotel, he supposes, but when his eyes fall on the Allmate he hesitates. This is the world he’d wanted to be in on, regardless of how bad an example the first denizens he stumbled upon were. “Yea.” And before he can reconsider, he adds “I’m hungry, too.”

Virus and Trip exchange a look again. He still doesn’t understand what happens between them when they do this, as unreadable as their cold eyes are, as difficult as it is for him to comprehend how a simple look can tell a story. He has a lot to learn, he thinks dully.

“Is takeout okay?” He doesn’t even notice who asks.

 _This night has passed into the surreal long ago._ “Delivery pizza is fine.”

“Have you ever had pizza in Japan?” Virus this time.

“There’s adult pizza,” Trip adds.

 _Definitely a bad choice to stay here._ “Don’t talk to me like that. I’m fifteen.”

For the first time that night, Virus seems speechless, his mouth cracked open as if to speak but only silence coming forth before he regains composure. “True.” Trip is smiling and shaking his head beside him. “What shall we order?”

-

“You like Mario Kart?”

“I get to choose first this time,” Virus cuts in before Noiz even has a chance to reply, as if this is an established ritual.

He is having difficulty believing this is not a nightmare, but the pizza hasn’t arrived yet and he supposes he might as well wait and at least get food out of this. “Yea.”

“Good thing we have four controllers,” Virus comments, again with that uncomfortable air that he is speaking more to himself than to anyone else.

“We ever use all four?” Trip asks then, tossing a controller to Noiz.

Virus freezes and gives him another one of those looks that Noiz can’t comprehend, burning white grin plastered over his face, but Trip only grunts, smirks. Whatever they had used all four for, Noiz decides he doesn’t want to know.

For all of Virus’ demands to pick first, he chooses a random character. Daisy. Trip somehow winds up with Peach when he opts for random, while Noiz gets Luigi.

He sighs and sinks far back into the couch, narrowing his eyes and watching them just as much as he watches the game. There’s something wrong with them, he can tell that much, but he hasn’t been around enough people face-to-face like this to understand just what that something is. They remind him of a community he’d once stumbled upon on the deepweb, snuff film makers, high-class hitmen for the mob who filmed their hits and sold the videos for big bucks online. Noiz had watched a few videos and then dismissed them at the time, an action he now regrets because the more he watches these two, the more he has an uncomfortable suspicious that _he has seen them before_. But visiting a stranger’s house and asking them if they sell videos of themselves killing people is not a good idea, he thinks dully as the doorbell rings in the middle of the second race and Trip jumps for it, not even bothering to pause the game, which Virus takes full advantage of.

The pizza is not what Noiz expects.

“There’s seaweed on both of them,” he says flatly, glancing over at Virus as if to ask why he ordered what he did. But he’s still playing the game, racing to the finish line while both Peach and Luigi had fallen off the road long ago. Noiz is pretty sure that’s cheating.

“Adult pizza,” Trip only grins as he grabs two pieces at once and smashes them together.

“I won this round. First one to five losses gets to trim the other’s hair this week,” Virus suddenly announces.

“I want no part in whatever is happening,” the words spill out before he has time to even think about what they might be referring to. _Better that way_ , he thinks dully as he slowly picks up a piece of pizza.

“Boring,” Trip pauses to lick his fingers as he speaks. “Guess I got to win now.”

Several minutes pass as Noiz picks seaweed off two slices and Virus vanishes only to return with plates and drinks. “We only have juice and alcohol.” He doesn’t sound particularly apologetic and he’s balancing three cups of wine and a bottle on the plates, as if juice were out of the question. Noiz debates commenting on it, but thinks better of it as soon as he opens his mouth; instead he shoves pizza in and quickly begins to chew.

Trip’s the first to pick up a controller again, still eating with one hand. Two more random draws bring Wario and Waluigi against Toad, then Donkey Kong and Diddy Kong against Mario.

“Did you rig this shit or what?” he finally asks.

“Huh.” Trip stops mid-chew and turns to stare, slack-jawed with pizza visible in his mouth. At some point, another bottle of wine had appeared and with every moment Trip seems to be moving even slower than before.

“You both always pick random but you always get matching characters.” _They’d have to be daft to not notice_ , but these two aren’t exactly normal, even in his limited experience with other humans.

“You don’t say.” “Interesting.” Said at the same moment.

He shrugs and drops it, uncertain of what to talk about with them. Casual talk was never his forte online, and when he wasn’t doing business he preferred staying out of chat rooms. But even as they start another race and he picks up a fourth piece, now cold, he can’t help but wish he had something to say. Because he doesn’t like the way Trip is watching him eat. Lazy eyes following his hand every time he raises the pizza to his mouth, studying his jaw every time he chews and his throat every time he swallows.

“I’m eighteen,” Trip says abruptly.

“And?” This isn’t the conversation he wanted. He can see Virus watching them from the corner of his eye, lazily swirling wine in his glass, controller now forgotten at his feet, and he wonders where this is going.

“So we’re close in age,” Trip shrugs. “Virus just turned twenty-five.”

Noiz looks over at the older man again. Still watching them from the side, still feigning disinterest, still listening all too intently. He’d figured he was older, even if smaller. He seemed like the leader of the two, but their relationship was like nothing he had any hope of understanding.

“We fuck a lot. Since I was younger than you, even.” _Not this subject again_. He’s leaning over him now, uncomfortably close to his face as he murmurs the last few words, and Noiz can suddenly smell his sweat and strength and something else he’s entirely unfamiliar with, but is imaginative enough to hazard a guess.

He tries to remember how many flights up this place is, wonders how well he’d survive a jump from the porch, and measures the distance from the couch to the balcony with his eyes. “Fascinating.”

Trip just shrugs. “ _Don’t talk to me like that. I’m fifteen_ ,” he mimics, his voice lilting just enough to incense him.

The urge to punch him once again seeps into Noiz’s mind, and he aggressively pushes it back. He can’t take on both of them, not where he can’t easily run for it. _Time to change the subject_. “Why do you dress like that?”

“Makes less people talk to me.”

The answer startles Noiz nearly as much as Trip’s casual ability to accept the change in conversation without even blinking. He imagines walking down the street or through a store without people stopping him, approaching him, trying to speak to him, just because he’s a kid in a nice suit. He imagines a world where he doesn’t have to worry about people smiling at him, where he can avoid the chaos of social niceties because adults don’t want to have anything to do with him. Just from one quick look. Outside of his small room, where he took to wearing pajamas more often than not, he never wore anything he couldn’t wear to one of his parents’ dinners. “Really?”

“Ya…Want to go shopping sometime?”

He doesn’t allow himself to hesitate, to reconsider the fact that tonight has just been one long series of bad choices, and rattles off his Coil number, so fast he doesn’t quite expect Trip to keep up.

But he does, calmly spitting it back to him seconds later as he types it into his own Coil, and Noiz quietly regrets.

“Should go before you leave for Midorijima. Osaka has some nice shops and we have business here for another three days.”

Noiz jumps. He’d almost forgotten about Virus, but now he is there, leaning over the back of the couch and staring at the two of them, that hideously white, shit-eating grin on his face again and an empty wine glass in his hand. Four times he’d emptied it, which Noiz doesn’t think is a good idea but then again, he’s gone through two himself. He’s tried alcohol a few times, ordered it with his father’s ID and had it shipped directly to his room, but never this much. _Probably not a good place to get drunk for the first time_ , he thinks absently and closes his eyes against the white grin. _There have indeed been a lot of bad choices tonight. Possibly even worse than the decision to leave that room_.

At that moment there is a thump, and the shifting of the couch jerks him out of his reverie. The first thing he sees when he opens his eyes is that grin, seared into his vision so that it echoes around him. Virus is in Trip’s lap now, with arms around his neck and tongue shoved down his throat.

Noiz can only stare. Regardless of what he’s seen online, he comes from a family and a social strata where you didn’t hug your spouse in sight of anyone, much less… _I’m in hell. This is hell. There is no other explanation_. He finally coughs. “Guys. I’m here, you know.”

They break away from one another with an audible wet sound that causes Noiz to cringe. The thought of _tongues_ mingling, of someone touching the one part of him that can feel, of having true contact with another human for the first time in his life, fills him with a visceral horror he has never felt before. But cringing was the wrong thing to do, because now they are interested. “Care to join?” Virus grins lazily.

And he remembers their game earlier. _It’s boring when he isn’t scared of anything_. He sneers, praying his voice won’t betray him, but having spent nine years without speaking to other humans has destroyed what ability he had to be expressive long ago. “Let me think about that for a minute. Hm. Nope.”

“Told ya. Boring.” Trip shrugs, and with that he abruptly knocks Virus onto the floor and throws himself on top of him, hitting the low table with his shoulder as he goes down.

Without thinking, he lunges forward, catching the bottle about to fall, and lays across the table for one long moment, staring at them. Whatever weight had been slowing Trip down these last seven hours is gone, and the speed and strength he’s now exhibiting to hold down and undress Virus causes Noiz to feel that creeping fear spill into his mouth again. He watches as they kiss again, watches as Trip sinks his teeth into Virus’ exposed shoulder, watches Virus wrap his legs around his waist and drag him still closer as he deftly pulls a tube of something out of his pocket and pops it open, watches as they both grapple for a moment and is eternally grateful that Trip chose to wore a skirt over his pants that day, grateful that neither one of them were patient enough to get it out of the way before he does something that makes Virus hiss and arch his back so violently his skull cracks against the floor.

He pulls his gaze away then, slides back off the table. Tonight has been one long series of bad choices, but he decides that this isn’t going to be one of them. “I’m going to another room,” he says flatly.

“Boooring.” Trip sings absently.

It’s the last word Noiz hears either of them say for the night as he beats a rapid retreat down the hall and slips into an empty bedroom, but it isn’t the last sound he hears, much to his dismay.

-

He wakes up at 10:37 am, much later than he had hoped, and lies on the couch staring at the time at his Coil for several minutes in confusion. He doesn’t remember anything past lying down in the bedroom and can’t understand how he got here. He wonders absently if he’s hungover, not that he’d know what that felt like for a normal person, much less for someone like him. But he’s alive and still has all of his clothing on, as far as he can tell, and that must count for something.

At that moment Virus walks into the room, sliding around the counter, grabbing a dirty cup off of it, and pulling the fridge open. Noiz suspects it’s safe to assume he isn’t looking for juice, but he’s too distracted to notice; things only get worse when the older man turns to face him, leaning back against the counter and sighing. He can only stare in confusion, unsure of where to look. He’s wearing nothing but a white button-down shirt that’s too large for him, and while he had been holding it closed when he walked into the room, he’d given up any attempt at modesty once he poured his drink. To make matters worse, Virus only watches him over the top of the wine glass.

Noiz has never seen a real person in the nude, not since before he had been locked away, anyhow, and certainly not in this shape. Immaculate hair flat and matted, bruises on his neck and chest, blood and other substances he doesn’t want to think about on his thighs, and are those _teethmarks_ on his – He tears his eyes away from Virus’ crotch and clears his throat loudly. “Do you mind?”

Virus moves slowly, the shape of his body and the hollows under his eyes enough to tell Noiz how exhausted he is, but he still smiles as he glances down at himself and closes the shirt again with a twitch of his fingers. “Trip’s going to be disappointed if you don’t go out with him. Would be a bit inconvenient for me, so please answer if he calls.” He says it pleasantly enough, even says _please_ , but Noiz can hear the threat.

If visible teethmarks _there_ aren’t inconvenient, he doesn’t want to imagine what kind of behavior Virus would find annoying. “Yea, yea. I think I’ll go now.”

His grin is still a hideous, burning white, and Noiz wonders if it has stained the insides of his eyelids by now, if he will remember its searing heat in the years to come. “Don’t be a stranger.”

Noiz rolls his eyes and reaches for his bag. He isn’t about to commit to another terrible decision, but he’s alive and in one piece, after all, and that must count for something.

 

 

 

  



End file.
